


stay here a little while (don't leave me here alone)

by korilove



Series: i wanna make love last [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Porn, Banshee Lydia Martin, Banshee Powers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, I'm Bad At Tagging, Smut, it's unclear if stiles is single or not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4069192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korilove/pseuds/korilove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia and Stiles have a moment of weakness before it comes crashing down around them. </p>
<p>------------</p>
<p>She can’t even remember why she’s so angry. She and Stiles had been picking at each other all day, the insults she threw his way laced with more venom than usual. It may have had more to do with his not noticing of things more than anything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stay here a little while (don't leave me here alone)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [anonymouses](http://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymouses/) & [scottmczall](http://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmczall/) for betaing <3
> 
> Title is from Don't You Wanna Stay by Jason Aldean.
> 
> As always, do not take this fic as an example. Always be safe when it comes to protection people, do as I say and not as I write!

All she can hear is the sounds of the pounding rain and the heaving of her chest.

 

Usually, Lydia’s mind is swirling with voices, hushed whispers that teeter on the edge of comprehension until her wail drowns out everything else. But even those are gone in this moment.

 

She can’t even remember why she’s so angry. She and Stiles had been picking at each other all day, the insults she threw his way laced with more venom than usual. It may have had more to do with his _not noticing_ of things more than anything else.

 

Lydia inhales deeply through her nose, the fresh, clean air making its way into her lungs. The rain pummels her body, she can see droplets shining on the end of her nose, as if they were tears.

 

She allows herself to draw her attention back to Stiles, who is standing less than 5 paces away from her. His hair is stuck to his forehead instead of the customary gelled and sticking up every which way, and the rain has made his red hoodie look a few shades darker from the moisture. He’s breathing just as heavy as she is, his features screwed up with too many emotions to really decipher.

 

“Why do you care, anyway?” He asks under his breath, his hands opening out in frustration.

 

Why does she care? She contemplates the question in her mind. She really has no reason to, other than the fact that he’s saved her life half a dozen times, been there for her when her banshee powers manifested, and the fact that he’d unwittingly become her best friend since Allison had died.

 

And then he’d ignored her for months. Granted, he was allowed to date (or sleep with) whoever he wanted, it didn’t matter to her.

 

At least she thought it hadn’t.

 

So instead of answering him, she says nothing, heart hammering against her ribcage. _Figure it out, Stiles_.

 

Stiles licks his lips and rubs his hands over his face when it becomes apparent she has no intention of offering an explanation. “Silent treatment. That’s just perfect, Lydia.”

 

Lydia mashes her lips together and takes another deep breath. If she keeps herself calm, maybe she can get through this scenario without hurting herself, or him.

 

“You know, for the record, I’m pretty sure this has absolutely _nothing_ to do with your abilities.” Stiles throws at her.

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” She hisses.

 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you keeping your distance! I know your powers are changing, the whole pack sees it. But me not saying anything about it isn’t why you’re pissed at me, is it?”

 

Lydia cringes inwardly. Is she that transparent? “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” She mumbles, not even convincing herself.

 

Stiles takes a step forward, and suddenly her hearing focuses on him. The rain pelting the asphalt is still there, but she can hear his heart thrumming wildly, and his breathing is as uneven as hers is.

 

“Yeah, I’m not buying it, Lyds.” He takes another step towards her, and she resists the urge to move away. As much as she wants to fast forward this awkwardness, she’s not going to back down from him.

 

“Okay, if you’re so smart, why don’t you share your hypothesis. Why am I pissed at you?” She snarks, standing up a bit taller.

 

“You aren’t.” He says simply, taking the final step in her direction, so he’s flush against her.

 

The air in Lydia’s throat gets caught, choking on the truth of his words. She isn’t mad at him really. She’s pretty sure it’s the opposite.The one she’s really mad at is herself. For not figuring out her feelings sooner. For not having them sooner. For having them at all.

 

Stiles’s thumb brushes against her cheek, sweeping away red strands that were plastered to her face from the rain.

 

"Not even a little bit." He whispers, words barely audible as his fingers cup the side of her face.

 

Lydia knows exactly where this is going. He's got that look in his eye and she just knows he's going to lean in. And she also knows should stop him.

 

But she doesn't.

 

She watches as he slowly leans his head forward, watches his eyelids flutter closed as his lips barely graze hers.

 

Lydia lets her eyes fall shut and embrace it, even though every molecule in her body protests. Stiles presses firmer into her lips, coaxing her to return the pressure.

 

Slowly and tentatively, she reciprocates his movements. She whimpers softly against his lips and involuntarily reaches her arm out to clutch at his waist to steady herself.

 

Her body feels airy and light, the only weight is the rain and the places Stiles is touching her - lips, cheek, hips. His lips pull away briefly, only to capture hers again.

 

Lydia tilts her head, leaning into him and deepening the kiss. His hand travels from her face to the back of her neck, grasping onto it as his tongue darts out to part her lips.

 

He tastes like spearmint and liquorice, and she feels shivers travel down her spine with the softness of his tongue brushing hers. They map each other's mouths, searching and tasting and memorizing.

 

It's more overwhelming than all of her heightened senses combined. She feels nothing other than his touch, smells nothing but the rain, hears nothing but the sound of their breathing.

 

Then something snaps inside of her, white hot and desperate. Lydia hauls him in closer, eliciting a deep groan from Stiles that settles in her belly. The kiss turns from soft to furious, consuming her entirely, like fire. His fingers tug at her hair, and she runs her hands under his soaked hoodie.

 

She can feel the hairs of his happy trail, the barely there curve of undefined muscles, the jagged edge of his hips. The lines of his shoulder blades, the various moles dotting his skin all over.

 

Stiles' hand falls out of her wet hair, and in a swift movement, gathers her up in his arms. Lydia grasps onto his shoulders to keep steady, not breaking the kiss. She's sure the moment they break apart will change everything, and she's not ready for it.

 

Especially since she's even more sure it won't end well.

 

Somehow, Stiles manages to get them back into the jeep, Lydia seated on top of him. His hands take their turn at roaming her skin, warm against the cold contrast of the dripping fabric of her dress. He travels from her bare legs, presses his thumbs into her hips, softly brushes the pads of his fingers across her stomach, swipes his palms over her back. When his fingers find the band of her bra, he follows it until her reaches the cups.

 

Lydia sighs hotly into him when he circles her nipple with his thumb, even through the silky material he jolts her skin. She ruts against him without meaning to, drawing out a deep grunt from Stiles.

 

She does it again without noticing, and his large hands spread over her still covered breasts. He painstakingly smooths over every inch of skin between them and her back, where he unclasps her bra with ease.

Lydia gives a small whimper as he takes his time removing the garment, pulling the straps over her shoulders while the pads of his fingers caress her skin. When he _finally_ gets it out of her dress, he flings it into the backseat of the jeep as if it were nothing.

 

If this were any other situation with any other guy, Lydia would probably scold him for taking too long and not getting the show on the road. But this is Stiles, and even though her senses are completely flooded by him, she’s still terrified.

 

Terrified that this is just a moment of weakness on both of their parts, and once it’s over, it’ll really be over.

 

It’s probably a good thing she’s completely overwhelmed by him to put a stop to it.

 

Stiles breaks their kiss for the first time since they were in the rain, only to trail searing kisses down her jaw, stopping at the hollow of her throat. His thumbs flick softly at her nipples, breathy sighs falling from Lydia’s lips. Her delicate fingers work at the zipper of his hoodie, desperate to touch him.

 

He hums against her pulse point, deep and guttural as she fronts against him again, her hands grasping at the edges of his t-shirt to pull it off. As soon as the fabric is off his skin his lips are back on her and she drops the shirt off to the side.

 

His hands end up back under the skirt of her dress, one playing at her breast and the other spread across her stomach. It inches lower and lower, his slow movements getting under her skin but she swallows the protests that threaten to break out of her throat. Stiles puts an end to her agony as he runs his middle finger against where she’d been aching to feel him touch. His breath catches and he does it again, definitely able to feel the wetness through the lace of her panties.

 

He leans back into the seat and looks up at her, amber irises darkened with lust and boring holes into her skin. Lydia can feel the intimacy of it burn her flesh, flushing it pink as he moves the fabric out of the way and touches her without barriers. She rocks up into his touch unconsciously, and Stiles leans in to swallow her soft moan. His fingers run along the folds and then she’s filled with the glorious bumps of his knuckles, his thumb softly pressing into her clit.

 

Lydia moans into his mouth and rolls her hips in sync with his movements, kissing him back desperately when he crooks his fingers _just so_ and stars implode behind her eyelids. She comes with a breathy whimper, Stiles hitting the spot that drove her over the edge until she’s finished riding out the high.

 

She pants over his lips as he removes his fingers, grasping onto her thigh so the slick smears into her skin. When she can control her limbs again she starts undoing his belt, fingers trembling a bit with nerves she didn’t know she had.

Lydia doesn’t have the ability to chastise herself about it either, because Stiles is lifting the bottom of her dress out of the way as she shoves his jeans and boxers down, her hands lingering a little too long on the curve of his ass.

 

He ruts up against her as he peels the material of her dress up and over her head, the air cool against her skin even though the windows of the jeep have steamed up from their breaths. The warmth of his hands spreads across her skin from where they’re splayed over her hips, like tendrils of fury that start a fever that won’t break.

 

One of Stiles’ hands (oh god, his _hands_ ) moves back up to cradle her head before he thrusts up into her, choking her with the fury of it. She doesn’t have time to contemplate possibilities, only to gasp into his mouth and roll against him as his pace steadies into a rough slamming of skin, pulling together and coming apart as slight pain combines with pleasure. His grip on her left hip tightens, surely to bruise her fair skin under the pressure.

 

Something takes her over, letting go of any reservations as they fuck the other mercilessly, the confines of the jeep filled with sobs and pants that echo in her ears. Lydia braces herself by throwing a hand on the window, not caring when it slips a bit and makes a squeaking noise as she wipes away the condensation.

 

Their kisses are sloppy and desperate, clinging to each other. Stiles pulls away from her lips, pressing them into the crook of her neck. She wipes the coldness from the window onto his shoulder, the shock in temperature causing him to bite down on her collarbone.

 

Lydia cries out, a sob that threatens to spill over into supernatural octaves as she feels the inexplicable wave of pleasure break over her. Unable to control herself, his name falls from her lips like a cursed prayer, her manicure drawing blood from his shoulders as she comes apart at the seams of her being.

 

Stiles’ thrusts become unhinged, fucking into her with abandon, a ferocity that has her emotions seeping out her pores. And then suddenly, his thumb softly grazes her cheek, his breath stutters, and with a final thrust inside her, he comes fast and white hot.

 

Lydia’s hearing starts to refocus as she comes down from the ecstasy she’d been driven to. The rain is still berating the jeep, Stiles is panting hotly across her face, and her heart slams against her chest. She wants nothing but to stay in this moment, the look of his face clearing of the quizzical look that permanently etched into his features, the sting on her skin from the roughness, the feel of the pads of his fingers cradling her head, hair tangled between them, like she’d entwined it there. The way he’d manage to worm himself into her heart without her really taking notice until it was hopeless to deny.

 

And then the moment ends.

 

Stiles pulls out of her, a soft whooshing sound escaping his lips. Lydia leans to her left, softly falling into the passenger seat where her dress lays. Wordlessly, she pulls the more-than-damp fabric over her head, bending into the backseat to retrieve her bra.

 

There’s an air of awkwardness that hangs between them, as if neither of them want to talk about what they’d just done. When Lydia moves back into her seat, Stiles is staring straight ahead at the streams of water travelling over the windshield, fully clothed.

 

She presses her lips together nervously as he turns the engine over, putting the jeep in gear and heading back to her place.

 

The drive home is silently awkward, and Lydia spends the entirety of it arguing in her mind, while trying to keep her senses at bay. One side urges her to just _say something_ , and the other wants to just forget this even happened.

 

When they pull up to the house a part of her wants to cry, but she’s Lydia Martin. She has more dignity than have her sense of self worth be dictated by some boy.

 

Even though it’s Stiles, and he’s more than just some guy she could fuck and chuck.

 

Desperate to be anywhere in the world than to spend another second in the mess they’ve made (not to mention she feels a spell coming on), she wrenches on the door and steps out.

 

“Lyd-”

 

She chooses to ignore him and slams the door behind her, sashaying her way past the gate until she’s sure he can’t see her anymore.

 

Lydia get’s all the way inside the house before the inevitability closes in. She collapses behind the door, her back sliding against the hardwood as the emotions and the supernatural flood her.

 

She can’t tell what’s worse, the fact that he couldn’t keep her powers from taking over, or that she depended on him not to break her heart.

  


**Author's Note:**

> [savingsciles](savingsciles.tumblr.com) is my tumblr y'all.
> 
> please leave a comment to tell me what you think!


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